


Osservatore

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Awkwardness, Idiots in Love, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Ezio, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He made your maestro happy, that much you could tell. There was a light in Leonardo's eyes every time the hooded man came up in conversation, a mirth in his voice that had become rare in these days.</p>
<p>If only the man wasn't so oblivious to Leonardo's feelings.</p>
<p>Perhaps you should help him open his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Osservatore

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I know that I have plenty of things I should be working on, but this came to my mind a few days ago while reading _Assassin's Creed: Renaissance_. Unlike most of my reader-insert stories, the reader is not involved in a relationship. 
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Deal with it and love EziLeo.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
>  **Osservatore:** Observer  
>  **Maestro:** Teacher (m)  
>  **Buon giorno:** Good morning

The workshop is an absolute mess—well, perhaps not a mess per say, more at type of _organized chaos_. As is the world of Maestro Leonardo.

 

Your employer is the very embodiment of spring. There is a delicacy in his features, the blonde locks that cover his pale skin and ever-curious blue eyes. Yet, behind his appearance—if anyone ever cares to look that far—Leonardo has more will and fire than all of the men of _Firenze_.

 

His mind is… absolutely indescribable. The inventions he comes up with, the possibilities of the future that he speaks of. _A man flying. Underwater boats_. They are all astounding.

 

Perhaps that is what has brought you so far into your job, these beautifully ridiculous creations that you have a part in bringing to life. Your own part may be small—the tiniest of mechanisms, the slightest testing of materials—but you know that in the very least, you helped.

 

Today, Leonardo is at work on his sketches. Papers are strewn in the workshop, alongside pieces of charcoals and paint here and there. He is nowhere to be seen when you first arrive, but does not remain that way for too long.

 

You smile when he darts past you to grab a small stack of papers. It is almost as if he does not see you for a moment, too wrapped up in his newest designs. He sits back down at his desk, flipping through the papers with a thoughtful hum.

 

“Good day, _maestro_!” You step carefully over the maze of his workshop, finally catching the man’s attention.

 

“Buon giorno! When did you arrive?” He starts to stand, but you motion for him to sit. There is no use for him to get up now if he is simply going to return to his work moments later.

 

“Not long ago, I assure you. I came a bit early to start transcribing you notes like you mentioned yesterday.”

 

For a breath’s time, he frowns. “That was yesterday?”

 

You sigh softly and shake your head, though you can only smile at the pouting blond before you. “You tend to lose time when you have been without rest, _maestro_. When was the last time you slept?”

 

“Nonsense, I am fine—” no sooner are the words spoke does Leonardo yawn, covering his mouth discreetly. “Well… perhaps I am a bit tired.”

 

You pat him gently on the shoulder, looking down into his eyes, “You are but a man. You must rest, or nothing here will run smoothly.”

 

He stands, and your hand remains on his shoulder. He smiles at you, warm and welcoming and perhaps somewhat drowsy. “There are things to be done—”

 

“Things that can wait until you are rested. I will not stand for this, Leonardo.” You are firm, gently pushing him towards his bedroom, “Now, either you rest or I will lock you inside until you do!”

 

With a small puff of laughter, your employer resigns to his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he answers. You listen, waiting for the soft creaking of his bed as he lies down. When the sound reaches your ears, you turn away, instead gazing on the chaos that lay before you.

 

It seems it is time to get the day started.


End file.
